Inseparable
by Galaxia Alpha
Summary: Post series, spoilers: After being recruited to work in a gambling club to fight for money, Mugen finds himself unwillingly reunited with both Jin and Fuu. PART 9 UP. The prequel to this is called: There Were Times.
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1 **

He knew it wasn't over. They had parted ways, taken separate roads, but he knew it wasn't over. How many other times had they done the same, heading different directions only to find that they'd all been heading in circles, circles that led them right back to each other? He'd see Jin and Fuu again. This he knew and it made him angry.

Mugen hated circles. They meant never going anywhere.

It was a bright day, the sun high and engulfing him in warmth as he wandered down the road through Nagasaki, back the way they'd come a few days ago, while still together. His feet kicked up little puffs of sand as he went and he watched them, swirling and glittering in the light before settling back into the ground—sand ending up right back where it had started. Circles.

He cursed, looked up. The clutter of shops and merchants came into view just ahead, forming the busy city amidst the backdrop of rolling, green hills. Unique scents assaulted his nose, a strange mixture of East and West, rice and red meat mingling in the air, teasing his empty stomach and driving it into a bout of crazed, animalistic rumbling. A woman passing by glared at him, obviously bothered by the noise. She was old and fat and wore furrowed lines from a permanent frown. He turned on her with dark, piercing eyes. "What are you lookin' at? Just cuz you can afford to eat good…" Her expression yelled at him with shock and offense as she hurried off, the sound of her sandals scoffing across the ground and fading behind him. Grumbling to himself, he continued on. The vendors were beginning to appear on either side of him now, eager merchants beckoning the passerby of the suddenly crowding road to look at their wares.

He was in a bad mood, and it made him feel like fighting, like throwing his aggressions into the flick of his sword and the swing of his fists. A flash of bright yellow caught in the peripheral of his vision and he turned to one of the selling stands, piled high with wares.

Sunflowers.

He froze, debating, and finally walked over with a shrug of his shoulders. The seller, a small, old man, bent with age, looked up excitedly as Mugen approached.

"These sunflowers are freshly picked. The best you can find, and for a good price, Sir."

_Sir?_ Mugen scoffed inwardly. He grabbed one of the huge flowers and shoved his nose into the center, inhaling deeply, and barely hearing the seller protest.

"Hey! Are you going to pay for that?"

"No," Mugen mumbled into the petals. He took another sniff before finally removing his face from it. "Well, waddaya know. It really does have a smell. And here I thought she was making it up."

He looked at the old man, who answered with a bewildered look, before throwing the flower back on the pile and turning away. No use getting nostalgic.

Stupid girl would probably get herself killed in a week anyway without him and Jin protecting her. How many times had they saved her life when they were together? _At least an end to her would mean an end to the circles._

He kicked the ground suddenly, a surge of anger forcing the movement so that a deep groove was left in the dirt road. He knew he hadn't meant that last thought.

Again, his stomach grumbled, and again it was loud enough to earn him more dirty looks from the people passing by. Something had to be done about this. Reaching his hands into his pockets, Mugen rummaged around for some money, frowning when his palms came back empty. He stretched upward and yawned, crossing his arms behind his head. Time to find some food.

He stopped suddenly. In front of him was a large tea house, and in the window of that tea house were huge meat chunks roasting on sticks, dripping with juice. He imagined—could even feel—that juice dripping down his own chin. Swallowing, he realized that that "juice" was really drool, and he wiped his face with the back of his arm. This was the place.

Of course, he had no money, but he couldn't very well think of a way to get some money on an empty stomach, now could he? He was sure he'd figure out how to pay the bill after he'd eaten. If he decided to pay it.

Inside, stray wisps of chatter swirled around the room, voices of men and woman, various ages. His mind automatically picked out the dangerous ones and his eyes searched them out: a group of young men talking quietly in the corner, obviously about something secretive; a government official bragging to a pretty waitress with long black hair; and a few scattered others. Those were the ones to watch—the ones to go after when he was ready to start some trouble. He ambled along casually, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and plopped down in a seat at an empty table.

It wasn't long before the pretty waitress with the long black hair came over and he couldn't help the feral smile that turned his lips. Behind her he caught the brooding stare of the arrogant government official and smiled even wider. This was going to be fun.

She looked down at him. Large black eyes and a false smile. "What would you like?" The voice was strained.

He almost laughed. This was waaaay too easy. His eyes traveled up her slight, curved figure, her dark gray kimono leaving just enough to his imagination to keep him occupied. A couple of choice dirty and crude replies came into his mind but then he thought he heard Fuu's voice reprimanding him. Stupid girl. What was she now, his conscience? That was the last thing he needed. He tried to growl the voice away internally. It didn't work. It had never worked with her in real life either.

What he ended up saying was much more discrete than what he'd originally intended, but he did still manage to get his point across, staring at her chest as he said, "Everything."

She scoffed, turning to leave, but he grabbed her wrist before she could, held it in a death grip. "I'll take care of that braggart over there if you want," he said, her back still to him. She turned halfway, and he let go of her hand. Her other hand came up to rub her wrist as she looked back at him, and he noticed he'd left a mark on her, not realizing his strength.

"Why?" Her eyes were full of suspicion. Raven's eyes, but the eyes of a raven about to be shot.

He laughed. "Not for free." He realized how vaguely reminiscent this scene was of the first time he'd met Fuu.

She turned to go again.

"I'm not going to take advantage of you. I just want a meal."

Again she stopped, looked back. "That's all?"

"Yeah."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't." He smiled. There was a menu lying on the table and he picked it up, handing it to her. "And I really do want everything."

The waitress paused a moment, seeming to examine him, before taking the menu and walking away.

He sat back and waited for his food. The government official was sending him daggered looks that Mugen was enjoying immensely. It would be fun to beat this guy up later. Maybe the fight would even lift his mood, though he doubted it.

Memories came back on him, and he fought them away. That wasn't what he needed. Angst wasn't his style. Action and reaction, but not deep thought. The last thing he wanted was to turn into Jin—permanent gloomy eyes and a mouth practically frozen in a downward curve. Every time that man's lips even hinted at a smile, Mugen was convinced his whole face would shatter from the stress.

The official was still staring at him, but now the girl was bent close to his ear, whispering something in it.

Mugen knew then that he wasn't about to get a meal in this place.

The man's expression grew somehow more menacing, and he stood suddenly, snapping his fingers. Several more men joined him instantly, mostly figures he had noticed when he'd first walked in. Their hands were on their swords and they moved over to Mugen together, the original official in the lead, obviously intending trouble.

Mugen looked down, began picking at a scab on his leg, waiting for them to come, his hand tingling with the ghost outline of his sword in it.

"I hear you've been starting trouble with the waitress," the head official said. Mugen didn't look up.

"Do you hear me?"

Mugen still didn't look up, or react in any way. This sure was an itchy scab.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

And now Mugen did respond, a malicious smirk on his lips. "So?"

The official's short, wide face contorted. Mugen saw the man's eyes travel to the blue tattoos around his wrists and ankles—souvenirs from prison.

A slow smile spread the official's thick mouth. "Well, what do we have here? An ex-con, eh?"

"Who said anything about bein' an 'ex'?"

The official slipped his sword out of the sheath at his waist as he spoke, "Even better. Now we have every right to kill you."

He swung then, but Mugen was already in the air, sword unsheathed, flipping over the official's head and slicing though him on the way down. The rest of the men came at him, and he took them down without using his sword again, knocking them unconscious with the metal plates on the bottoms of his sandals and the equally solid heals of his hands. When he was done, they were all lying in a heap on the floor, not a single one of them dead, though the main official was bleeding badly.

_I must be getting soft. _

The teahouse was silent. Stowing his sword away and cracking his knuckles, Mugen began to leave. But his stomach stopped him. It growled in protest, pausing him in mid-step. _Ain't no way I'm leaving without a meal_. Pivoting around, he walked back to where the official had been sitting originally, ignoring the shocked stares the other patrons of the teahouse were giving him. Actually, he enjoyed the attention. _That's right, be afraid, be very afraid_, he thought amusedly at the mass of people. The official had left a large bowl of stir-fry. Stir-fry that involved substantial pieces of cooked meat. Stir-fry that had barely been touched. Mugen picked up the bowl, shoved his face in it, and practically swallowed the food in one bite, before finally turning and leaving the teahouse.

The first thing he noticed as he stepped outside, squinting in the bright sunlight and beginning to walk down the road again, was the man standing in the shadows at the side of the tea house. He noticed this because the shadows were the first things he always noticed. Those were the places he was used to being and he didn't take kindly to other people standing in his shadows.

He turned to face the intruder, expecting another confrontation, maybe another one of the official's friends.

What he found was a tall man, body looking like a series of long wires tied together, his eyes and face stolen away by the darkness. "You are quite a fighter." The man's voice was deep and smooth.

"Huh?"

"You look like you could use some money. How would you like to fight for money?"

Mugen shrugged. "Okay." It sounded good so far.

"There is a place, on the other side of town, where people come to gamble. Upstairs are the card tables and dice games, but underground is the fighting arena. There, you would fight opponents for people to place bets on. If you win, you get half of the profits. The only rules are, no swords, and no killing. Of course, this establishment is rather… secretive," he looked back at the tea house pointedly, where the pile of government bodies lay inside, "but I doubt you'll have a problem with that. Are you interested?"

Again, Mugen shrugged. "Maybe."

The man stepped forward out of the shadows a little, and now Mugen could see his face, a dark red scar across the left side of his forehead and wandering around his left eye to the top of his cheekbone. The rest of his face was very nondescript, simple black slanted eyes and dark hair, a face that you could easily lose in a crowd—except for that scar. "Good," the man continued. "I'll see you tonight at the Lusty Diamond. Just ask anyone where it is, they all know."

And then Scarface turned and dissolved into the shadows.

The Lusty Diamond. Mugen tucked his hands behind his head and continued walking.

Well at least he wasn't going to be bored tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Mugen stood outside the Lusty Diamond for a long time, struggling to read the sign with his questionable literary skills. He knew he was in the right place, of course. Everyone he'd asked had directed him here and the smells of smoke and drunken laughs wafted through the open doorway as evidence. The outside of the establishment almost looked as if it could be respectable during the day, probably posing as the average Nagasaki teahouse, but now it had transformed into a night spot for men to lose their money and drown themselves in drink.

He walked in finally, hands in his pockets, whistling casually and taking long, lazy steps. The atmosphere of the place surrounded him as he entered and he breathed it in deeply, letting himself be immersed in it all at once. While the crowds of people and musty air made him feel claustrophobic and trapped—he was more used to open skies and rough seas—it also invigorated him. There was so much energy here. He grinned darkly, knowing an exciting night lay ahead.

There were tables set up in the front, waitresses serving their customers—mostly men, dark men looking for dark pleasures, some that carried themselves with an arrogance that he guessed came from the possession of a high government position. Nagasaki seemed to be overflowing with figures like these and it probably meant that a vagabond like Mugen had no business being in this city. He snickered to himself. Looked like he'd be staying a while.

Behind the teahouse portion of the place were the gambling tables. He swaggered over to them, eying the pretty girls dealing the dice and the cards, wondering what other services these woman performed with an evil glint in his eyes.

The first one was a tall girl in a black kimono, with long dark hair that hung to her waist, her thin fingers deftly dealing cards to hungry men. Some of these men had their own girls hanging off their arms, girls that giggled and jumped for joy when the object of their attention won a hand. He paused, the dealer at the table glancing up and noticing him as he stood there. Winking, he continued on, his sandals making soft clacking sounds against the wooden floor that he could not hear, but could feel. He'd have to come back for that one later.

The next table was for a game he did not recognize. Something involving chips and dice and cards all at once. The dealer at this one had her hair in a tight bun, with skin as light as rice paper, offset by the darkness of her indigo clothing. Thick makeup made her eyes seem to pop out of her head and he found it strangely distracting, in a way that reminded him of the wild gaze of a wolf. This one was dangerous, and he considered what kind of mood he was in tonight, whether he'd prefer this woman over the first.

The last table was simply a dice game. There was a thick crowd and he had to shove his way through to see who the dice thrower was. Between the shoulders of two particularly large men, he caught a glimpse of dark brown hair in a high ponytail, and a deep red kimono with intricate black flower designs. The face—

He froze.

The face he knew. He tried to swallow and found that he couldn't, instead directing his energy into shoving the two men in front of him completely out of his way. They grunted and gave him vicious looks that he pretended not to notice, letting their curses bounce off his ears and slide off his shoulders. One tried to push him back, but Mugen punched the guy with a force that knocked him unconscious, never turning his eyes away from her. No one else raised a fist against him.

A circle again. Gone from her only a few days and he'd traveled in another circle—right back where he started.

She was taking in the crowd with a look of power and control, seductive in its mix of innocence and danger. Arms spread wide, she held a dice in each hand, wedged between two fingers with blood-red painted nails. She wore her kimono off one shoulder, revealing soft white linen wrapped around her chest. But it was her eyes that were most compelling, deep black midnight and chocolate brown that seemed shadowed with secrets and mystery, undaunted as they pierced through this crowd of shady figures.

Her lips turned upwards in a humorless smile and seized the future in their tight line, ready to release it at the throw of the dice. She held this crowd captivated. _Hell_, he thought, she was fifteen and she held this crowd in her hand with the aura of someone who was ageless, timeless. And again he though, _hell, she's good._

Her gaze came to where he stood and she stopped, blinking at him for a moment before saying anything. He could see now that her cheeks were flushed, and recognized it as innocent embarrassment from the attention she was getting from all these men. But she played it off as something seductive, weaving it into her act and he wondered where she'd learn to do this. He'd seen her like this only once before on their journey, and had paid little attention then.

For a moment, he saw childish excitement splash across her face, but it evaporated quickly and her dice-throwing persona returned. "Couldn't stay away for more than a week, could you Mugen?" she said sweetly. The attention of the crowd suddenly turned to him.

Her words made him angry and he found that he hated her in this moment. He _wished_ he could stay away for more than a week. But he was trapped in circles.

"Like hell," he answered gruffly. "Just here to earn some money. They must be desperate if they've got _you_ whoring here."

Her answer was a look of daggers. "Idiot. I only throw dice."

He laughed. The noise held no humor. "Right."

She looked away from him then, taking in the crowd, but he noticed with a satisfied smirk that her cheeks were a little redder. "Are the bets set?" The answers were grunts of affirmation and Mugen watched the dirty looks that were turning away from him, focusing back on her.

"Good," she said. For a second more of tightly wound tension she stood motionless, and then with a blur of red fabric and pale skin, she threw the dice to the table, crying out loudly. There was relative silence as they tumbled to a halt on the gambling table, followed by shouts of joy and anguish as she read the numbers.

It was time to go. His body felt jittery with the need to release energy, to fight. "See ya around, Fuu," he threw back over his shoulder. She didn't respond, or if she did, it was drowned out in the enthusiasm of the dice gamblers.

He wandered on to the very back of the gambling room, where he saw a staircase. It only led one direction. Down. The smells of blood and sweat drifted up to him and he felt his muscles tighten, his hand automatically on his sword.

He could feel the fights down there, calling to him.

Punches and kicks and wounds and pain and victories and freedom. Simplicity. Things were always different at the end of a fight. New scars that would never heal. Lives that were ended. And no circles, never any circles. No turning back.

He hungered for that now, and it was that hunger that drove him down the stairs, leaping to their bottom in a series of flips.

He didn't look back, hoping to leave the circles behind. But as he turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs to get his first view of the fighting arena, he knew that was impossible.

He'd just run another circle.


	3. Chapter 3

**_We're on to Part 3 folks. I should probably mention that I've posted a prequel to this story called "There Were Times..." written in Fuu's point of view. Thanks to all those who have commented so far, and for that matter, thanks to all of you who have been reading this at all. Enjoy._**

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Part Three**

_Jin._

Mugen stood, motionless, at the back of the arena, watching the young, pale samurai fighting a large, muscular man in the fighting ring. A deafening roar of voices cheered the battle on, so loud that Mugen almost couldn't hear himself cursing.

Almost.

But he was cursing pretty loudly.

From the looks of it, Jin was winning, his tall lean body sliding easily between the clumsier man's punches and kicks. Mugen began walking down the aisle between the benches of onlookers to get a clearer view. Was Jin… smiling? Mugen hadn't realized how much Jin really enjoyed this—the rush of a fight. The smile seemed to fit unnaturally on Jin's face, making him look like some sort of disguised demon.

Mugen was next to the ring now, a raised circular platform about a foot off the ground, surrounded by tightly wound ropes. With a graceful spin kick, Jin delivered the final, crushing blow to the man's legs. Mugen saw rather than heard them snap. Both the shins were broken, and the man fell to his knees, the lines of his face scrunched into contorted bulges. Blood squeezed out of a cut beneath his eye and trickled down his cheek in crimson tears.

Jin simply stood, unmoving. Expressionless face. Looking down on the man prostrate before him.

"Blue death strikes again!" a voice in the crowd yelled.

"He's unstoppable!"

"This kid is making me rich!"

The frenzy of the crowd had reached a crescendo, as the defeated man was dragged out of the ring by two bouncers who looked like they had been inflated like balloons. Their muscles bulged out every which way. So did their stomachs.

_You've got to be kidding me. _Mugen thought. _Blue death? _Jin was standing silently in the center of the ring, as subdued as ever, hands lost in the loose fabric of his kimono.

From behind, a voice pierced Mugen's ear, and he swung around, hand going to his sword.

It was the man with the scar, and he was saying, "So you came after all. I knew you would."

Mugen examined the face turned expectantly to him, looked the body up and down. Scarface was well dressed, and Mugen guessed he was the businessman behind this whole betting-on-fights enterprise. Because Scarface looked like he was waiting for a response, Mugen grunted.

"I see you are watching our star fighter. He came in a few nights ago, and has been undefeated since. The man performs miracles, defeating people three times his size."

Again, Mugen grunted, turning slightly to refocus on the events in the fighting ring.

"Do you think you could take him?" There was a mischievous ring to Scarface's voice that seemed somehow off-key.

For variety, Mugen scoffed this time.

A referee had entered the ring, announcing the winner of the fight, and was asking if there were any—

"I'll fight him!" Mugen yelled, interrupting. He watched as Jin's eyes turned toward his voice, smiled at the slight surprise he saw behind those ridiculous glasses.

"You," Jin said simply, as Mugen climbed into the ring.

"Yeah, me." Mugen was angry—furious really, though he didn't have much of a reason for it. He considered Jin a friend, but right now, he wanted to beat the crap out of him.

"I would have thought you'd be towns away by now."

"Well, I'm not. Somebody has to show you who the better man is."

The crowd loved that. Their voices united momentarily in a resounding, "oooooh…" before chaotic noise returned.

Jin raised an eyebrow.

"Hey!" The referee had come between them, and he was staring at Mugen. "I'll need to take that sword. This is a weapon-free fight."

Mugen glared at the referee with a look that said, 'did you actually just talk to me?' When the referee didn't react, Mugen turned his glare back on Jin.

"I left mine with Fuu."

Rolling his eyes and grumbling, Mugen slipped off his sword and sheath, handing it to the referee with a look twice as piercing as the proffered blade.

"You mess with my sword and you won't have any hands left to mess with."

The referee seemed unimpressed. "Both of you to your corners. I'll tell you when you can start."

Mugen backed away, watching carefully as Jin did the same. The other man was wearing his usual deep blue kimono, his long black hair tied up but somewhat mussed from the fighting. The glasses were perched precariously on his precisely chiseled nose.

"Let's see what you got, Jin."

The tiniest of smiles creased Jin's lips. "More than you'll ever have, Mugen."

"Like hell!" But Mugen was wondering, as he yelled back, what exactly Jin meant by that.

He was still wondering when the referee yelled for the fight to begin.

And then the world erupted into sudden motion.

It was like a veil had been ripped off reality, so that he could at once feel its sensual eroticism. The smells of drink and drugs in the room, the moist and dank air, the growling and shrieking of the people, the feel of his wooden geta against his feet—it all converged with sharp sensation at the focal point of Mugen's attention: Jin.

Riding the wave of his reflexes, Mugen flipped through the air, feet set to land squarely on Jin's chest. Jin dodge though, with a swish of black hair, rebutting with a kick that Mugen rolled away from without thinking.

Attack. Dodge. Attack. Dodge.

They danced about each other, though each to a different song—Jin's a traditional ballad of strength and grace and Mugen's a hip-hop jive that refused to be contained by normal conventions. If Mugen had been thinking, he might have considered how strange it was that they could have such different styles and yet be so evenly matched.

But Mugen wasn't thinking.

He was feeling. And the feeling was freedom. Uncontained. Uncontrolled. Impossible for anyone to steal. Jin could feel it too. Mugen saw the smile and knew. It was the same smile Jin had worn the first time they had ever fought, before that battle was sliced in half by a fire. That smile of a demon.

Attack. Dodge. Attack. Dodge.

And then finally, there was contact: Mugen tried to swing around Jin to catch him with a body slam behind the knees, but Jin was already turning, arm outstretched. It was too late to change trajectory, momentum driving Mugen forward into that arm, which was lined up with Mugen's chest. Mugen swung a foot up into Jin's unguarded side, as he felt the sudden impact to the ribcage. Both grunted and stumbled backward—Mugen scurrying on the floor, trying to force air back into his lungs, and Jin clutching his side.

A feral grin played on Mugen's lips. "So now we get to finally see who's the better fighter, eh buddy?"

Jin returned the grin. "Perhaps."

They re-engaged their fighting, resuming the pattern of attack, dodge, attack, dodge…

"Perhaps? What the hell does that mean?" Mugen rolled out of the way of a kick.

"It means that our skill with swords will remain untested."

There was adrenaline speeding through Mugen's veins, and he pushed it into his legs as he dove toward Jin, toppling him onto the floor and landing on top of him: "I don't need a sword to kill you."

A knee to the groin make Mugen gasp—he hadn't expected a move like that from Jin—and in the momentary daze, Jin managed to plant a foot on Mugen's stomach to pry him off. Mugen tumbled backwards, but ended the roll on his feet, wincing at his new soreness.

"WOULD YOU GUYS STOP IT ALREADY!" The voice was loud and shrill and Mugen definitely didn't have to look to know who it was.

Jin, on the other hand, turned his attention for the smallest of moments. It was a golden opportunity. Mugen spun around, following a punch with a kick and ending it all with a head butt that made a resounding 'crack'.

Jin crumpled to the floor.

Dazed and stumbling a little from the head butt, Mugen managed to steady himself enough to force his vision out of plurality. Just outside of the ropes surrounding the fighting ring stood Fuu, her face contorted in rage. He thought he saw steam pouring out of her ears in thick streams, but it might have just been from all the Opium the spectators were piping.

"Hey, thanks Fuu. I guess you _are_ good for something." He gave her what he thought must be a friendly smile.

She didn't seem to think so. He watched as she climbed between the ropes into the ring. Her lips were pressed tightly together and she wasn't saying anything.

Fuu not saying anything? That never happened.

She was in front of him now, less than a foot away. Her voice was low and threatening when she did finally speak. "You, are an idiot."

And then she punched him. He hadn't realized Fuu could actually punch but he knew it then, as the room started to blur and converge on a point of darkness.

And as his head smacked into the ground and he lost consciousness, he had one last thought: "No way in hell I just got beat by a girl…"

The crowd was laughing him a lullaby.


	4. Chapter 4

On to Part Four. This chapter didn't want to come so easily—took a bit of work. Oh, well. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the reviews. Enjoy.

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**Part 4 **

_He is sitting on a rock at the shore, legs dangling in the water. The ocean salt stings the cuts on his feet but he likes the feeling—it means he's alive. Koza is next to him, a hand's width away, eyes distant and focused beyond the horizon she seems to be staring at. The wind blows the raged strands of her black hair so that they tickle his cheek. And then her voice breaks into the sound of the waves slapping the sand: "Let's run away together." _

_She's asked him this so many times and he knows she will many more. As usual, he doesn't answer and doesn't turn to face her, but he knows her eyes look sad. They always do. She wants to get away from here, and so does he. But when he leaves, it will be for good, and he will leave every bit of Ryuukyuu behind. _

_Including her. _

_He wants no reminders, nothing to make him look back. All he wants is to go forward. _

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"Mugen."

A woman's voice was calling to him through the fog of unconsciousness. Smiling, he rolled over onto his side, holding on to the lingering comfort of sleep like a blanket. The right half of his face hurt. _Must have been a rough night_. He smiled wider.

"Mugen."

There was something about that voice he thought he should notice, but he was too intent on resting to force his brain into enough awareness to figure it out. He grunted softly.

The voice wasn't satisfied with that.

"Mugen you lazy bum, WAKE UP!" It was a sharp whisper projected directly into his ear that sliced his blanket of sleep into shreds.

Suddenly awake, Mugen knew what it was he was supposed to notice about the high-pitched, young voice. It was Fuu's.

His eyes opened to slits and he saw her sitting there, on her knees next to him, an angry expression narrowing her large eyes and twisting her mouth, made strangely ominous by dim lighting. She was still dressed in the same clothes he'd seen her wearing in the casino, and from this close he could tell that she was wearing make-up. Her lips were blood red.

"What d' you want?" he growled at her. He tried to scowl, but the right side of his face jolted him with throbs of pain. He reached up to touch it and felt that his cheek was swollen.

In reaction to his discovery, Fuu's countenance softened, and she looked away, gaze focused somewhere behind him. "Sorry about your face," she said.

He remembered then. The fight. Fuu interrupting. Him taking Jin down. Fuu taking him down…

There was a rumbling inside him that wasn't hunger. With sudden movement he sprung up and pushed Fuu backwards, tackling her to the ground. He found himself on top of her, with his elbow pressed to her pale throat. The other arm held her shoulder against the ground, his fingers pushing hard enough into her clothing that he could feel her collarbone underneath.

He focused his gaze steadily down on her. "You ever do that again, and I _will_ hit you back."

She was staring up at him with terrified eyes. Eyes that reminded him of a child he'd seen once on Ryuukyuu, recently abandoned by its mother and sitting in an alleyway with knees drawn to chest.

Rolling off her suddenly, he flipped to his feet, cursing. For some reason, that look she gave him hurt more than the bruise on his face.

Back turned to her, he waited for Fuu to yell at him, but she was silent. Fuu was never silent.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't sure if she could even hear him.

Either way, she didn't respond, and he was afraid for a moment that maybe he had hurt her. He turned halfway to glance at her. "Yo, you okay?"

She was sitting on the floor, hands in her lap, staring angrily down at them, face almost as red as the fabric of her kimono. She looked up, brown eyes attacking his. "You're such a jerk."

She was fine. "So?"

"And you wouldn't hit me anyway. I'm too adorable to hit." She still seemed shaken, but she was falling back into the familiar patterns of their usual conversations, and he found that somehow comforting.

Scoffing in reply, he glanced around at the small room they were in. There was nothing but a lonely chair along one wall, next to a low table with a cluster of candles, and a cot along the opposite one. Jin was lying on the cot, his long hair draped over its edge, eyes closed and face relaxed. _Why does Jin get the cot?_ Mugen wanted to ask, but instead he said:

"Where are we?"

"In the rooms above the casino." She stood, the heavy cloth of her kimono swishing quietly about her legs. He thought she looked older without the bright pink and orange of her usual attire.

Above the casino. He suddenly remembered the prize he should have won for fighting Jin. "I lost my money because of you," he said accusingly.

She gave him a smug look that made him want to tackle her again. "Technically, it's my money. I won in the end."

But before he could shout back a colorful retort, a new voice entered the argument: "Did Fuu really knock you out?"

It was Jin. Mugen whirled around to face the other samurai, who was now sitting up on the cot, looking at him with just the slightest flavoring of curiosity in his typically bland expression. Mugen thought for a moment about how best to respond and then settled on cursing Jin out and telling him to shut up.

The corners of Jin's lips were turned up into something that looked like a cruel smile. "Your whole cheek is purple."

Mugen took a threatening step toward him. "I'll make your whole face purple. I beat you last night, remember?"

"Only because I was distracted. It wasn't a fair fight."

"Don't give me that. I ain't interested in your wimpy excuses. There's no such thing as a fair fight."

"Then Fuu is right, she won. I, at least, wasn't beaten by a girl." Jin raised an eyebrow and gave Mugen a meaningful look.

The rumbling inside was back. Mugen took another tense step toward the cot.

"Oh, would you guys give it up already? This is getting so old. You aren't going to kill each other, so just get over it," Fuu interrupted

Both men looked at her. "How do you know?" Mugen said defiantly, hearing his words mimicked by Jin in unison.

She sighed, exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. "Why do I bother? You're both such idiots."

They fell silent for a moment, the three of them forming a triangle in the small space. It occurred to Mugen that there were no windows in the room and he had no idea what time of day—or night—it was. There was only a single door that was doing a mediocre job of blocking out the noise of people yelling from somewhere outside. He listened and noticed they weren't yells of anger…

"This is one of the whoring rooms, isn't it?"

Fuu looked at him, and it seemed like she was trying to decide if he meant it as some sort of indirect insult. Eventually she gave a little shrug and said, "Yeah."

He nodded. This time the rumbling inside of him really was hunger. "Got any food?"

"You pick the strangest moments to think about eating," she said, but she was already turning toward the door. "I'll be right back." Light poured in from the hallway candles for a brief moment, and then she was gone with a swish of fabric and a dull thud of the closing door.

"This from the walking stomach," he mumbled to himself, before turning to inspect Jin more thoroughly. He was sure he must have left Jin with some sort of injury from their fight, but nothing was readily noticeable.

The samurai's face looked as pale and porcelain as ever—not even a smudge of dried blood. Mugen stretched upward to loosen his tense muscles, enjoying the satisfying pops his back made as he did. It must be the poor lighting. The guy had to have at least a bruise somewhere. Maybe it was just hidden under his clothes.

"So, Fuu really punched you out."

Mugen growled. "Shut up, and wipe that stupid grin off your face."

"But I'm not smiling." It was true, Jin wasn't.

"But you're thinking about smiling and that's close enough." Mugen tried to reach for his sword, but found it wasn't there. He gave Jin an alarmed, angry look.

"Weapons aren't allowed up here. House rules." Jin stood, smoothing out his clothing, hands lost in his sleeves.

That made Mugen think. If they were technically in a whorehouse, did that make Fuu the whore? He grinned wickedly.

"No," Jin said simply.

Mugen tilted his head at him, rubbing his face as he did. "No what?"

"Fuu is simply renting this room for us."

Mugen was still smiling. "How do you know?"

"I've been staying here for several days."

"Really now? What is Fuu, your girlfriend now?"

Again, Jin said, "No." He gave Mugen a firm look over the tops of his glasses that Mugen thoroughly enjoyed.

"Then what're you doing here?" Mugen was hoping to get another "look" out of Jin, as proof that he was annoying the other samurai.

Instead he got Jin's matter-of-fact answer: "We met here accidentally the night after we parted ways. She came here to find a job, and I came for… other reasons."

_Ah, the suspense_. "Other reasons?" Mugen questioned.

"Yes."

Raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes, Mugen tried to prod more information out of Jin with his expression. It didn't work

So then he tried asking again, "Come on man, tell me?"

Jin took off his glasses and began wiping them clean on his sleeve. "Your cheek is still purple."

Mugen snarled. It was an impressive imitation of a rabid dog. "You stupid idiot. I'll—"

He was cut off by the sound of the door creaking open. "I leave you two alone for five minutes and you're already at each other's throats again." Fuu was back. She kicked the door closed behind her with a foot and rolled her eyes, as she carried a plate of food over to the table.

Mugen considered responding, but decided food was more important. He practically dove for the tray as Fuu set it gently down. On it were two sets of chopsticks and a bowl of some sort of stir-fry: rice, vegetables, and… meat. His mouth watered. Then he noticed something, half the bowl was empty.

"Hey, some of it's gone!" Mugen complained, looking up at Fuu accusingly as he did. She was standing right beside him, so he was able to get a pretty good glare in.

Her cheeks reddened, but only slightly. "I got hungry," she responded defensively. "You two are so exhausting, it makes me want to eat."

He rolled his eyes and turned from her back to the food. There was the smell of honey mixed with spices that he recognized as distinctly Fuu.

There were no chairs in the room, so Mugen grabbed the bowl and a set of chopsticks, and walked to the middle of the floor, plopping down with it. Jin walked by him and came back a moment later, sitting facing him. "You are going to share that, right?"

Mugen was already stuffing his mouth full. "No," – or at least that's what he tried to say. It sounded more like a muffled moan around the food he was swallowing, occasionally taking the time to chew a bit.

Jin attacked the bowl with his own set of chopsticks, picking at the pieces of meat. Aside from a few chopstick battles, they managed to share pretty evenly. Or at least, Mugen thought it was even. He ate faster, so it seemed fair that two-thirds of the food ended up in his stomach.

Fuu was sitting down next to them, legs tucked under her and hands in her lap. "What are you doing here anyway, Mugen?"

"Huh?" he grunted, picking at his teeth.

"We all took separate roads."

"Hung around Nagasaki for a few days, checked out the night life." He shrugged. "I heard there was fighting for money here." He paused, looked at Jin. A nagging annoyance was back at having run into them again so soon after separating. He wondered about how to define it, how to explain it. "There, I told my story, now what's yours?"

Jin sighed, eyes cast down into his lap. "I'm here for revenge."

"Eh?" Now this was interesting.

"My master, Mariya Enshiro, was ordered to kill me by Kariya Kagetoki. But there was someone higher up giving him orders. He was a government official, but someone was over him. Many of Nagasaki's top officials frequent this casino."

Mugen blinked. "Do you even know who you're looking for?"

"No, but I'm slowly finding out."

Mugen turned to Fuu. The light from the candles was flicking fireflies into her hair. "Can you believe this guy? He wants to take on the whole shogunate." It actually didn't sound like such a bad idea. He surely had a score or two to settle with the government.

"Well, it_ is_ corrupt. I mean, they killed my father for being a Christian. And besides, the officials keep trying to feel me up when I roll dice." Her brow wrinkled in disgust.

"But you've got nothing to feel," he said lying back on the wooden floor.

She yelled at him for a few minutes, but he zoned her out, thinking about this anti-shogun quest Jin and Fuu seemed to suddenly be on. They'd be killed if they were caught. But he'd been there before. He looked down at the blue lines that encircled his wrists and ankles. Those tattoos were permanent and set him apart as an outcast no matter where he went. They spoke words that he couldn't silence: 'You're a criminal.' He wore them proudly because he had no choice but to do that. He wore them proudly because he refused to wear anything with shame. He hated them. Reminders of Ryuukyuu he never wanted.

"Are you listening."

He didn't look at Fuu, but responded absently: "No."

She made a frustrated noise.

And why did_ she_ want vengeance? Because some government guy had come and killed her father—a man she'd claimed to hate anyway? It bothered him somehow—the three of them having a common enemy. It was an enemy he never really intended on challenging directly, but he certainly wasn't opposed to it. The whole idea even sounded fun.

Then why did it make him so angry?

"You two are hopeless," she sighed. A pause, then: "I guess it's just fate that I'm stuck with you guys." Here tone wasn't plaintive, but had become slightly endearing.

That was it. Fate. That was what made him angry. Fate had boxed him in. Fate had forced him to come full circle back to Jin and Fuu. Over and over, no matter what his intentions, no matter how much he tried to choose a direction and go in it, there were always things out of his control. Fuu called it fate. He called it a curse. It had been his enemy many times before, and he'd never been able to defeat it.

It wasn't that he minded so much being with Jin and Fuu. Their presence was oddly comforting. He could say they were his friends but he wasn't sure he understood what that meant. What he didn't like was the uncanny way they ended up back together even when he was trying to walk away. What he didn't like was fate.

He cursed outwardly.

"What's wrong?" Fuu asked.

He continued looking at the ceiling but he could feel both her and Jin's eyes on him. "Nothing."

"You're lying, I know there's something. We traveled together for three months. I can tell by now." Her voice was insisting and familiar.

He didn't like that she could read him. He didn't like that both she and Jin had come to know him so well while not really knowing him at all.

Mugen stood then, rolling onto his feet. He felt like fighting. Or finding a girl. He wasn't sure which yet. "I'm going out for a while," he said. "I wanna check this place out a bit."

"Mugen…" her voice was soft, like a feather drifting on the wind, unsure of itself and its direction. It surprised him.

He looked at her. "Yeah?"

She seemed a little embarrassed, and confused too, like she didn't know what she was trying to say. "Be careful. Okay? I mean, some of the people here are trained soldiers… and I don't want to have to sew you up again."

He wasn't sure what she meant at first, but then he realized. Only two weeks ago she'd seen both he and Jin almost die at the hands of a trained government soldier.

He looked at Jin, saw her admonition backed up in his eyes—well as much as anyone could see any form of emotion other than solemnity in Jin's eyes.

"I'll see you guys later," he said simply.

And then he turned and walked out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5 **

The hallway outside the small room he, Fuu, and Jin were staying in was dimly lit, and full of noises that floated about it almost tangibly, like ghosts that had lost their way.

It was chilling, and he fought against the urge to shiver. Voices of women seducing men, and of men wooing women. Voices that sounded more like the cry of an animal. Behind him, the voice of Fuu wafted from under the door, asking Jin what was up with Mugen.

He didn't need her concern. He was a big boy, and he could take care of himself.

The sound of a woman giggling drifted to him and he decided that what he needed right now was a girl. Lucky for him they were staying in a whorehouse. He began looking through the keyholes of the doors, completely unconcerned about how lewd the act might look to anyone who might see him.

By the third keyhole he found what he was looking for. Beautiful girl, lying on a bed, kimono low off her shoulders, and no man in sight. She must have been waiting for the customer who had paid for her to arrive.

Mugen smiled cruelly. Finders keepers.

Turning the doorknob, he swung the door open, and swaggered into the room. "Hey babe, ready for a good time?"

She sat up a little on the bed, long black hair sliding over her pale white shoulders. There was an open window next to the bed, and a slight breeze was blowing in and playing with the folds of her kimono, rippling over them. He found the effect enticing.

She lifted her chin and squinted at him. "They told me you were the personal guard to the royal family. You are different than I expected you to look."

Mugen laughed, kicking the door shut behind him. "What? I'm not ugly like you expected?" He let his red jacket fall off his body. It made a loud smacking noise as it hit the wood of the floor. The room was dark, a column of moonlight reaching through the window to bathe her, and he hoped that in the shadows she wouldn't notice his prison tattoos.

It didn't seem like she did. "Well you're an eager one, aren't you, hon?" she said, giggling and eying his outer garment lying on the floor.

He made a deep guttural noise, and began moving toward the bed, about to leap on her and—

_Click._ The sound of the door opening.

"You seem to be lost." Deep male voice. Strong. Used to having its way.

Mugen cursed, pausing with his arms braced against the bed on either side of the girl and with one knee on the mattress. "Hold that thought," he said to her with a wicked grin, before he stood and turned around.

The man standing in the doorway was tall. Very tall. So tall that at first Mugen didn't think the man could be Japanese, but then he saw the short black hair and slotted eyes and knew he must be.

"What the hell do you want?" Mugen spat in an annoyed tone.

The man raised his eyebrows—two slim angled lines almost lost in the darkness—as if he were confused by Mugen's words. "I want the whore I paid for." His tone emphasized the obviousness of the statement.

Mugen was answering almost before the man finished speaking: "No."

"No?"

"No."

The man laughed now, a halting and sharp sound, like wood breaking glass. "Do you know who I am boy?"

"Personal guard to the royal family, blah, blah, blah. So?" He kept his voice defiant, while considering that he was without a sword. There was still the hidden dagger, strapped securely to his side, and there were a few candlesticks in the room he could use as weapons if he had to. In his favor, this royal guard dude would also have had to lose his weapon to come into the whorehouse.

Mugen heard the sound of metal scraping against metal as the man slid a katana out of the sheath at his belt. Or maybe not.

Apparently "house policy" didn't apply to everyone.

"You are obviously, not very smart. Most people cringe when they hear Shinnyo is near."

"I ain't most people. I'm the guy that's gonna whip your butt." And then Mugen dove at the man named Shinnyo, going for his knees and determined not to allow the man's possession of a sword to force him onto the defensive. Shinnyo flipped out of the way, swinging his sword behind him. Mugen caught the blade on the metal that plated the bottom of his geta sandals.

Shinnyo was fast. Very fast. Mugen felt a smile slip onto his face, loving the feeling of the adrenaline tightening his muscles and the sudden "awake feeling" his heightening senses gave him.

Twisting his ankle quickly, Mugen tried to force the blade caught in his geta out of Shinnyo's hand. It would have worked on a weaker man, but Shinnyo was not a weak man, and he managed to dislodge his blade and strike again. Mugen was lying on his back on the floor, and had to roll away to avoid the metal whistling through the air.

Shinnyo was laughing. The whole time. Laughing.

A sound like wood breaking glass.

It hurt Mugen's ears. "Shut up!" he yelled.

Shinnyo laughed louder.

It felt to Mugen like his insides were being torn out by the sound. It screeched inside his brain and he found himself enraged by it. Flipping onto the bed, Mugen used it as a platform to throw a kick high enough to reach Shinnyo's face. "Don't worry Baby," Mugen said, glancing momentarily down at the girl, still lying on the bed. She had an alarmed look on her delicate face. "I didn't forget about you. I'll be back to finish what we started in a min--."

He would have completed his sentence, but the air was knocked out of his lungs as he tried to dodge a sword thrust and ended up running into Shinnyo's retaliatory kick. The force threw his body against the opposite wall, and his arm took most of the impact, screaming its protest in pain. Growling, he sprung onto his feet and ran toward his opponent. Shinnyo was standing across the room in a wide stance, and Mugen dropped to the ground just as he came within sword-striking range, sliding between the man's legs to get behind him. Flipping onto his hands and standing on them, Mugen slipped his ankles under Shinnyo's shoulders from behind, pulling them toward him while at the same time springing up on his hands to punch the backs of both of Shinnyo's knees.

Shinnyo crashed to the ground with thump and a grunt.

The grunt, of course, was Mugen, being that Shinnyo was now lying face up on top of Mugen, who was trapped on his stomach under the huge man.

Maybe that last move hadn't been such a good idea. Mugen tried to reach for the dagger strapped to his side and just got his hand around it as Shinnyo rolled off of him. Mugen immediately sprang at him, keeping him from getting to his feet, and holding the dagger to his throat. Unfortunately, Shinnyo had also managed to bring his sword up and was holding it to Mugen's throat.

They were at a stalemate, and they paused like that as the moments dripped by, keeping time with the drops of blood sliding across Mugen's skin from thin cuts that now laced his body. The red liquid drawing spider webs on the hand that held his dagger surprised him. He hadn't even realized that Shinnyo's attacks had wounded him.

Shinnyo was still laughing.

"Ready to give up yet?" Mugen taunted. They were beside the bed, with the mattress behind Mugen where he sat on top of Shinnyo. The column of moonlight from the open window cast Mugen's shadow on the other man so that his expression was hard to see.

"Your kind is not welcome here." The laughing had stopped.

It took Mugen a while to realize that Shinnyo was staring at the tattoos on his wrist.

"Too bad I don't care. You know, I killed one of the royal family once."

"Then it will be my civil duty to kill you in return."

Mugen scoffed. "Like hell." He was about to jump off of Shinnyo to end the stalemate and resume the fight when suddenly—

PAIN. A twist. MORE PAIN.

Mugen gasped violently, and then coughed with equal force. Pain. His back arched with the impact and the twist of a dagger through it. Lower back. Right side. Someone had stabbed him. The word became hazy, and his thoughts truncated, as he stumbled backward. Away from Shinnyo. Away from the bed.

The girl. Standing there. Scared look on her face. Bloody dagger in her hands. Her. She had done it.

Shinnyo. Standing now. Laughing again. Laughing. Laughing.

Warm liquid. Running down the backs of his legs. Lava out of a stab of fire.

He had to get away. He'd fought with wounds before. But he had no sword and this man Shinnyo was good.

Had to get away. His wild eyes fell on the open window. Column of light. Follow the light. He ran toward it, stumbling a little, and throwing himself through the opening. They were only on the second floor, so he managed to land pretty easily, grunting with the pulse of pain the impact sent through him.

He was in an alleyway. Dirty, smelling old and rotten. Shinnyo's face appeared at the window above him, and in the moonlight it was the first good look Mugen had of the man. The features looked carved out of stone, perfect and precise. Like the face of a god. The eyes, they were darker than death, and their darkness reached Mugen even from where he stood below. "Are you going to run, Criminal? Are you a Coward?"

Mugen cursed at him and stood his ground. He wouldn't run. He wasn't a coward.

Then he heard Fuu's voice yelling his name. He saw her face a few windows down. "What the hell are you doing, you stupid pirate? …Wait… Mugen, is that blood? Mugen!"

He staggered a little. Blood. There was a pool beneath him. He was loosing so much blood. That whore. She'd twisted the dagger after stabbing him. Twisted the dagger and ripped a hole in him. He looked down. The dark pool was glistening in the wan light.

It had just been a dagger, how could there be so much blood? He realized that it was very likely he was going to pass out.

"Come on Shinnyo, let's finish this!" If he was going to pass out, he was going to kill this guy first. Out here he had more room to maneuver than in the room. Maybe that would work to his advantage.

Shinnyo answered his beckon, and suddenly appeared on the ground in front of him. Mugen fought to remain standing. He was dizzy. So dizzy.

Strange shapes floated in front of his eyes, shadows that twisted around like a kaleidoscope. He tried to plant himself firmly in a fighting stance, looking around for something to fight with. He still had his dagger in his hand, but Shinnyo was swinging his katana threateningly as he began to walk toward Mugen.

Shinnyo attacked and Mugen just barely dodged out of the way, falling to his knees as his equilibrium was thrown off. More blood dripped to the ground below him.

And then there was a blue blur dropping from a window above and landing on top of Shinnyo. He turned and watched it, as it attacked Shinnyo, squinting to try to understand what it was. The blue blur wore glasses and a long ponytail. It was a great effort to remember that the name of this blue blur was Jin.

"I don't need yer help!" Mugen managed to slur.

Jin glanced up at him. He had knocked Shinnyo to the ground with his aerial attack. The royal guard wasn't moving. "Apparently," he said simply.

Mugen tried to stand, but almost stumbled to the ground again. He was caught by a small body with soft hair. Fuu. His arm fell heavily onto her shoulder and she cried out a little. He knew he was too heavy for her to support, and he pushed her away, but then Jin was there with her, and the two of them were dragging him away.

"He was mine ta kill ya four-eyed idiot." His lips felt foreign to him and his words stumbled as badly as his body.

"I didn't kill him. He's only unconscious. There isn't time; you're loosing too much blood."

"I'm fine. Let me at him. Gonna bash his big head in—" Mugen almost toppled over, but felt the arms of his companions holding him up. They were trying to force him to run but his legs wouldn't work.

Why did he feel so drunk? He couldn't remember suddenly. His mind felt murky and sluggish. It must have been a good party. With lots of sake.

Where was he going? They were approaching the trees lining the city. And now they were in them, he being dragged past them.

Who was dragging him? He looked to one side. Tall thin man, narrow face, delicate glasses, long black hair. He turned to the other side. Slight girl in a red kimono. Brown hair tied up, large eyes, soft features. "Hey, yer preeeeeeetty," he slurred at her. "Wanna find a bed?"

"Mugen, you pig!" She looked down at him fiercely, cheeks turning bright red, and he saw that she was crying. That was strange.

And who was Mugen? Was that his name? He giggled. He'd forgotten his own name.

It occurred to him that he couldn't really feel much and that he was shaking. He was cold. "Come on baby. I need ya ta warm me up."

"Stop here, in this clearing. I have to start a fire." the man with glasses said.

"Why? What are you going to do? Jin, there's blood everywhere. What do we do?" the girl answered, panicked.

"Just set him down."

Mugen found himself lying on the ground as the man with glasses wrestled his dagger out of his hand. Mugen hadn't known he was even holding it. The man then gathered some leaves into a small pile and began hitting the blade against a rock to make sparks. A flame was born there and grew as the man added twigs and then branches…

Mugen couldn't do anything but stare at the fire. He couldn't even move. The fire was dancing and it hurt his eyes, but he couldn't look away. He felt his mind sinking into a murky darkness. Shapes and shadows were joining the fire in its dance, the two tangoing together and he remembered things that seemed not to belong here.

_Koza was staring at him, giving him her usual look of vulnerability through black eyes. She made him think of a stray cat. "What do you mean you're leaving?" _

_"I mean I'm leaving." He walked along the path, idly throwing a rock up and catching it repeatedly with one hand, while the other rested in his pocket. _

_"Yeah, but how? There's no way to steal a boat without the guards seeing you. Even if you get away they'll catch you again. Just like they always catch us. Over and over again. We escape and we pirate for a while. They catch us and we're back here." _

_"There are less guards when there's an execution going on." _

_She stopped, but he continued walking, scuffing the ground with his geta as he did. _

_"Who's going to be executed?" she asked behind him. _

_There was a guard standing ahead of them on the road, gun held securely to his chest. He was eying the two of them suspiciously. _

_"Me," Mugen answered. _

_He caught the stone in his hand one last time and threw it at the guard. Hard. It was time to start a fight. _

_"Mugen!" _

The voice should have been Koza's, but it wasn't. He opened his eyes a little to see a young girl looking down at him. Who was she again? The name "Fuu" came from somewhere in the shadows of his mind.

"Mugen, wake the hell up you lazy idiot." She was slapping his cheeks gently, stopping when she noticed his eyes were open.

It was dark and they were in a forest clearing.

"I'm ready." The man with glasses appeared over him, holding a glowing dagger. "Turn him over."

Mugen grunted, as he was pushed onto his stomach. His hands slid against sticky, wet dirt.

"We are going to have to hold him down. Are you ready?" the man's voice said.

The girl replied, "Yes."

And then Mugen's numbness was dissolved in the feeling of the glowing, hot blade of the dagger being thrust into his lower back. He screamed as his body arched in agony, the smell of his burning flesh searing his nose. Strong hands held him down and he felt wetness on his cheeks as he yelled, "I hate you!" He didn't even know the name of the person he was yelling it at.

Then, there was only darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Short chapter. It didn't really come very smoothly either, so sorry if it's a tad lacking. Here's a great big bear hug for all you who have been reading so far and for all you who have reviewed. It means a lot. Also, critique is very welcome for those who review. Thanks so much, and enjoy. -Galaxia

* * *

**Part 6 – Interlude**

"We have the report on the two men and the girl that was with them, Sir." The voice was a clear tenor.

Shinnyo looked up from the cup of tea he was absently swirling with one hand to glance at the young soldier standing before him. The other hand held a compress soaked with herbs against the large bump that had risen above is left eye. "Yes?"

"The one with the tattoos was Mugen, the sinner from Ryuukyuu. The two with him were Jin, the samurai ronnin who killed Mariya Enshiro, and Fuu, Seizou's daughter."

"The ones the famed "Hand of God," was supposed to have killed."

"Yes, sir." The soldier, one the commanders of Shinnyo's men, nodded curtly with the words, head wagging with each syllable.

"Apparently he failed."

"Yes, sir."

Shinnyo gave the soldier a severe look, annoyed at his bland repetitive responses. The man's stiff posture crumpled slightly. _If I needed an echo I'd stand in a cavern, _he thought. What he said was: "I want a search party sent for them by first light. These three are a nuisance and a danger to the shogun. They won't have gone far. The one—Mugen—was badly wounded and is perhaps even dead by now. I'd have killed him on the spot had Jin not surprised me." At the mention of his assailant, he pressed the cloth against the wound on his forehead a little harder, challenging himself not to grimace as he continued to increase the pressure. The action was somehow satisfying.

"Sir?" The voice rose with the question mark at the end of the word.

Pausing in his masochism, Shinnyo returned his attention to the soldier before him. That wasn't right. The correct response to his order was most definitely _not_ a question. He assaulted the man with a hard look meant to discourage any continuation of the inquiry.

It didn't work. The soldier went on: "These… criminals… defeated Kariya Kagetoki. His name is still remembered by some of my men. They will wonder how _we_ are to defeat them…"

Shinnyo froze, then gently placed the compress on the small round table in front of him. The now deserted gambling club/teahouse was silent save for the nervous breathing of the soldier…

And then, in one fluid movement, Shinnyo rose from his chair and unsheathed his sword, smacking the soldier's face with the broadside of it. The impact left thin lines of blood on the man's cheek.

"You will never again question my orders." He waited for the soldier, now wide-eyed and lying on the floor, to nod emphatically before continuing. "They are without swords and you outnumber them. If your men cannot defeat them in such conditions, then you are not worthy to wear the insignia of the shogun's guard."

Another emphatic nod, and then a tremulous "Yes, sir."

Shinnyo let the soldier shiver there for a moment before sitting again and muttering, "Dismissed" with a wave of his hand. He watched as the guard scampered out of the teahouse. _Coward_, he thought at the retreating figure. He took a sip of his tea and then set it down on the table. The clack of the china against wood echoed about the walls of the deserted Lusty Diamond. It was almost dawn, and the gambler's paradise had long ago dissolved to make way for the daytime front of a respectable teahouse.

Shinnyo stood. There was no room for further mistakes to be made in this matter. Particularly with the Ryuukyuu sinner who had killed a member of the royal family some months previous. It was imperative that he be punished for his crime. If not, others might hear about it and get ideas…

Shinnyo would go himself, just to make sure they were killed. Adding their defeat to his list of credentials would serve him well in gaining further honor and respect among his men. Especially if they were already viewing these criminals with the awe his head soldier had implied. Shinnyo would succeed where Kariya had failed. He snickered quietly at the thought. For years he had commanded "The Hand of God", formulating assignments for the shogun's most elite warrior, but Shinnyo had never liked Kariya. The man had been too cocky, and as a reward, the famous samurai was probably lying at the bottom of the harbor.

A smile touched Shinnyo's lips as he walked out of the teahouse and breathed the cool pre-dawn air. There was a reason he held the highest rank in the shogun's army. And as he stepped out onto the road he laughed the insidious chuckle that he used as a tool to fill his enemies with fear.

It was playtime.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7 **

_The ropes tying his wrists behind his back are tightened, and he breathes in sharply as he feels them cut into his skin, releasing warm liquid that begins to drip down his fingers. He imagines the pool of red blood that is forming under them. It helps him focus, helps distract him from what he knows is coming. _

_A guard walks around from behind him. He has a squished looking chubby face—like someone had stuck his head between two rocks and then stepped on it. Somehow the man's lips find room to sneer between the thick cheeks. _

_"I'm gonna have fun with you, Criminal." _

_Mugen spits in the man's face. He knows it will bring on the torture sooner, but it's going to come anyway and he's tired of waiting. _

_A look of disgust crinkles the man's eyes and lifts his nose. "You little punk!" _

_Tensing his muscles, Mugen braces himself for the attack. The first kick to his side gives him hope that the beating won't be as bad as he's expecting. _

_"Do you think throwing a rock at a soldier is gonna make you big and bad?" _

_The second kick destroys that hope. _

_"Who's tough now? You worthless son-of-a-whore." _

_Mugen falls over onto his side as the third kick hits his side in the same spot, announcing its arrival with the crack of broken ribs. After that he loses count. He bites his tongue to keep from moaning, tasting the bitter-sweet of blood. "Only a wuss would beat a man with his hands tied…" he manages, voice rough. "If you want a real fight—" _

_Another kick stops his words. _

_"An animal isn't a man." _

_Mugen can barely see the guard's face through the blurriness of his flooded eyes. He is coughing, the action sending fireworks of pain through is body and rubbing his cheek into the dirt he is lying in. _

_"Pig. We'll be doing the world a favor by executing you." _

No,_ Mugen thinks, _you'll be doing me a favor._ He closes his eyes as the kicks keep coming, trying to remember why he is doing this. _

_Trying to remember that when this is over, he'll have left Ryuukyuu behind forever. _

---

This was the second time in less than a day that he had woken this way—woken to Fuu sitting beside him.

The difference was, this time she was asleep. Mugen looked at her through slightly open eyes. Strained lines marred her face, and her body seemed tense in its kneeling position beside him.

"She was exhausted. She put up quite a fight to stay awake though."

Mugen turned to the voice. Jin was sitting back against a nearby tree, legs Indian style under the folds of blue fabric he wore. He had dark shadows under his eyes, accentuated by the eerie casting of light from the campfire. Spots danced before his vision as Mugen stared at the brilliant flames, remembering the white-hot pain—the fire-warmed dagger thrust into his back to cauterize his wound and stop the bleeding.

"Why doesn't it hurt?" His voice felt hoarse, and what he meant to be his normal volume of speech came out as a whisper.

Jin looked at him a moment, then closed his eyes. "The flesh around the wound is dead from the burning. And we covered it with some medicine Fuu went back into town to get. You'll feel it when you—"

Mugen tried to sit up and look at the fresh bandage wrapped around his abdomen and lower back. He yelled out a curse at the sudden pain.

"—move," Jin finished, opening his eyes again at the noise.

"Mugen?" Fuu was awake now, and Mugen was still cursing as he tried to sit up against a tree behind him. It took more effort than it should have and he was panting by the time he was there. Still cursing though.

"You shouldn't try to move," Fuu said, sliding over to the new spot where he was sitting. "How do you feel?"

"Like I just got stabbed in the back."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks, that was descriptive." A pause. "You had a fever most of the night and you were hallucinating."

Most of the night? He didn't remember anything past Jin thrusting the hot dagger into his back, but as he looked around he noticed that the very beginnings of dawn had come. The sky was just a tad lighter than it should be at night. That meant he had been out for at least five or six hours.

"You were yelling a lot, and talking too. I thought you were going to wake up all of Nagasaki," Fuu was saying. Her small hands fidgeted in her lap.

He could only imagine what he'd been hallucinating and yelling about. "I was?"

"Yes." The look on her face kept him from needing to imagine; he knew. Ryuukyuu.

He tried again to readjust his position, and held his breath against another nauseating wave of pain. "Stupid government loser. I'd have killed him if it weren't for that whore." He closed his eyes and tried to force his lungs to work with some sort of rhythm.

"Whore? Mugen… what were you doing?" Fuu's voice said.

He chuckled, ignoring her question. "She was a dame though, with a great rack." He waited for Fuu to yell at him, and imagined the pink rising to her cheeks. Cracking an eye open, he smirked. Yup, it was there.

"Mugen! Do you always have to think of…" She stopped, sounding frustrated. Then, more quietly, "You almost got yourself killed, you idiot."

"Eh. Oh well." He shrugged. The movement hurt like hell.

Jin's voice floated to him now, "So you tried to sleep with the choice girl of the shogun's chief guard?"

"Yup."

"Hmm."

Mugen opened his eyes to look at Jin. "Hmm?" he questioned, challenging the samurai.

"You are stupider than I thought."

"And you're a jerk."

Jin didn't respond, but he heard Fuu muttering beside him, something like "'five-year-olds in the bodies of men." Her features looked diffuse in the darkness, but the sky was just beginning to lighten and it was enough to see her roll her large eyes.

No one said anything else for a while. He began rubbing at some dried blood on his arm. He was covered in it, and it felt like mud clinging to his skin.

Fuu interrupted the quiet, saying: "Well, I guess we're back where we started. Wandering around with no money and no place to stay."

Mugen scowled at her phrasing. _Back where we started._ The reminder that he didn't have as much control over his life as he wanted tainted his next words with sarcasm. "Oh come on. Didn't you make anything _'throwing dice'_? Mugen questioned.

She glared at him in answer to what he was implying. "Yes, but I used what I had to buy you medicine and the rest I left at the Lusty Diamond."

He gave her a nonchalant shrug, and let his gaze wander back to the fire. "Well, we have to go back anyway."

"What?"

"Our swords are back there." He turned to look at Jin and saw the other man nod. "We aren't going to leave our swords."

"A sword is a samurai's life," Jin added.

Fuu was shaking her head. "Are you two crazy? They'll—"

_Swish-crack. _

Mugen's hand flew up to cover her mouth instinctively, cutting her off. There had been a sound… a rustling in the woods that didn't belong. He looked at Jin. "Did you hear that?" he whispered. But he saw Jin stand very slowly and knew that he had.

For a moment there was silence aside from the normal forest sounds of insects harmonizing and the campfire crackling.

And then…

The rustling again. A very diffuse rustling. It took Mugen a moment to realize it was actually _several_ rustlings.

_Swish-crack-swish-crack-swish-crack. _

The sound came again and he became aware that "several" was a bit of an understatement.

And then the rustlings erupted into bodies—many, many bodies—bodies that were clad in battle armor and came toward them swinging swords.

Fuu jumped up beside him, eyes wide and kimono swinging about her and brushing his face. He tried to do the same, growling at the resistance his body gave him, protesting every move with sparks of pain that danced before his eyes. He let the momentum of getting to his feet continue to drag him forward, as he slung an arm around Fuu's waist and pulled her away, crumbling her frozen imitation of a statue.

She looked at him.

"Gotta go," he answered her expression, focusing his eyes on the ground in front of him as he stumbled forward—away from the roaring army of men behind them.

He knew without looking that Jin was back there, buying them time to get away. A Jin that was without his sword and was facing trained, armed men.

Fuu had pulled his arm over her slim shoulders now, and they limped on a little faster, but he knew instinctively that it wouldn't be enough. He could barely move and she was too weak to really support him, and Jin... no way in hell was he going to let that pansy samuai get away with dying the hero today while he ran away...

"Stop," he grumbled.

Her face turned towards his, looking blurry this close to his own, but she kept moving.

"I said STOP!" he repeated, this time digging the heals of his geta into the ground to keep her from pulling him any further.

His eyes met hers for the slightest of moments, his intensity stretching that moment into eternity. "Trust me."

He twisted suddenly, breaking her grip on him. Leaning forward, he let the falling momentum of his body drive his legs onward, back toward the swords and the yelling and the action that made his heart pulse a hidden song in his veins. Jin was standing in the center of the clearing, the fire between him and the men, who were closing in on him, slowed by the time they were taking to throw a preliminary attack of taunts.

It took no more than seconds for him to reach the other samurai's side, holding a stick he had picked up from the ground on his way. He thrust the end of it into the fire, looking back at Jin as he did.

"Take Fuu and get out of here."

The slightest look of confusion crinkled Jin's smooth face.

"You think I'm gonna let you have all your fun? It's your turn to take care of the brat." He smiled cynically. "They'll get her if you don't."

He turned then, leaving Jin's shocked expression behind. This was the only way—the only way to save them. To them it would seem like reckless blood-lust. And he would never tell them differently.

"You want a piece of me!" he screamed then, charging toward the soldiers with the blazing branch.

He took five of them down before he crumpled to the ground himself. He could have taken more he knew, but the crucial moment came and he took it, letting a sword sink into his stomach where he knew no vital organs would be touched.

_He_chose the moment he was struck. _He _chose the moment he was defeated.

_He _chose to take the gamble instead of forfeit his cards.

And as his vision began to fade and he felt his attackers drag his limp body away, he knew his gamble had paid off.

The keys to survival were in his hands.

He smirked and let his eyes close.

And the world turned to black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8**

Shinnyo watched from the bushes as Mugen fell among the cluster of soldiers, a sword sticking through his back. The men closed in on him, the head commander ordering them to make sure he was dead. Taking a step closer, Shinnyo could see that he wasn't. The sinner's body lay twisted on the ground, the sword through his stomach keeping him from resting flat. But the chest was still rising in ragged spasms.

What a perfect opportunity. "Stop. Don't kill him." Shinnyo stepped out of the bushes, relishing the look of shock his head soldier gave him.

The young man stumbled over, stuttering. "Sir! I didn't know you were here."

"That was the point."

The soldier regained his composure as he reached Shinnyo, eyes and stance settling into an air of power and command. "We have apprehended the sinner, Mugen. We will kill him at your command."

"No. Keep him alive. Bring him a doctor if you must. We'll execute him publicly as an example." And what an example he would be… a man from a criminal colony who tried to defy the shogun brought to his knees by its soldiers.

"Yes, sir." The man turned and yelled out new orders to his men, who began to lift Mugen's body in response and carry it away, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.

"Commander."

"Yes, sir?"

"You are allowing Jin and the girl to escape."

The commander's eyes grew wide as he spun and looked at the now abandoned campground. Jin and Fuu were nowhere to be seen.

"I'm sorry sir. I'll send men after them right away." His voice sputtered through the words.

"Never mind. I'll capture them myself. Just take care of Mugen." Shinnyo didn't wait for a response, but instead turned and walked out into the clearing, around the dying campfire. The bushes were matted on one side and he guessed that was the direction they'd run. He hated to admit it, but even he had been too distracted by Mugen's display of stupid heroics to see them escape.

But he would soon correct the mistake.

Hand on his sword, Shinnyo set out into the woods, his pace picking up as he got used to following the trail of broken branches and crumpled plants. The sounds of the soldiers faded behind him until all he could hear was the wind through the leaves and a crunching up ahead.

He focused on that crunching, using it to help lead his way. And then there were other sounds too.

A girl's voice, wild and spastic, "We have to go back. Jin! We have to go back and help him!"

There was no response, and he heard her whimper as the crunching continued. He imaged Jin forcibly pulling her onward. Now there was a smart man. He knew they'd only be killed if they tried to help their friend.

"What's wrong with you! They're going to kill him!" She sounded hysterical now. The crunching stopped and Shinnyo thanked her emotional tantrum for the part it would play in allowing him to catch up.

A low voice was heard now, undoubtedly Jin's. "Fuu…" It paused. This was obviously not a man who was good with words. "Mugen is…" Another pause. Shinnyo approached slowly now, making sure his steps were quiet as he came closer. _Come on,_ Shinnyo thought, _I can hear what you're trying to tell her. Just say it wimp. Your friend is dead._ Jin had no way of knowing it wasn't true yet. And either way, it would be true soon enough.

But instead, Jin said, "They will capture us if we do not keep moving."

Shinnyo held his breath, he could see them now, through the branches of a tree—the tall man in blue standing facing the petite girl in red, his hand on her arm holding her steady as she shook with tears. Two criminals consoling each other. Shinnyo would do them the favor of ending their pain.

With a blazing sword and a maniacal laugh, Shinnyo sprung out of the bushes, aiming his blade at Jin as the samurai turned in surprise.

Metal slid through flesh with a satisfying wet sound. The expression on Jin's face—wide eyes that dwarfed his glasses and an open soundless mouth—made Shinnyo laugh louder. For a moment, Jin stood, arms around his upper abdomen and frozen dramatically. Then, there was a thud, and Shinnyo had to dodge to keep the body from falling on his feet.

He turned, smile wide and aimed at the girl, whose brown eyes gleamed wet and large in the early morning light. "You next my dear."

She spun around and ran, stumbling into the woods.

It as pathetic how easily he caught up with her, tackling her to the ground and wrapping an arm around her waist as he held her face down in the dirt with the weight of his body. "Time to say goodnight," he whispered in her ear. Her hair was a mess, loose and wild, and it tickled his face. Maybe she would have been attractive if she didn't smell of sweat and hysteria.

Sitting up on her, he turned his sword in his hand and slammed the hilt into the back of her head. Her body went limp immediately and all that escaped her lips was a brief moan before she fell unconscious.

So easy to capture. Had she learned nothing from her samurai father? He rolled her over and lifted her in his arms, looking at the muddied face. She was just a child really. Unfortunate for her to be born to a Christian. Perhaps it had branded her destiny as an outlaw at birth. Perhaps she couldn't help what she was. He thanked whatever gods there were that his destiny had made him something different—had made him a great man.

Carrying her body in his arms, Shinnyo hurried back to the place where he had left Jin bleeding on the ground. He didn't expect the man to have gone anywhere, near death or dead as he no doubt was.

But Shinnyo was wrong.

Because in the spot where the samurai should have been was only a dark stain and a pair of broken glasses.

Shinnyo cursed angrily. Not only was Jin gone, but this time he had been careful to leave no sign of which direction he had gone. Not even a convenient trail of blood.

Nevertheless, he was injured, and Shinnyo was sure he'd show up soon. Walking over to the abandoned glasses he lifted his foot and pounded it into the bent frames. The sound of the lenses grinding into the dirt was satisfying and Shinnyo turned to head back to the rest of the men with some of his frustration vented.

"Don't worry Jin. We'll find you," Shinnyo said, and went to bring the girl to the Ryuukuu sinner she'd wanted so badly not to leave behind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9 **

_The wind hurts as it grazes his skin, white undershirt fluttering violently against the bruises on his side. Behind him the sound of the ocean waves rises, distant below the edge of the cliff. _

_It is a beautiful day. Mugen grins at the line of soldiers holding guns pointed at him. They don't know the favor they're doing him. Soon he will be free. _

_He glances to the side where he knows Koza and her brother are hiding in the bushes. Maybe she'll understand what he is doing here today. Maybe she'll understand why. After all, she'd always dreamed of being free. _

_But to her free only meant breaking ties to Ryuukyuu, and more specifically, to her brother. It didn't bother her if she needed to bind herself to another man to do so. _

_He won't be that other man. He wants more than to leave this place—they've done that before to moonlight as pirates, though they've always been recaptured again. Escape in and of itself is not hard. The soldiers here have never had much control over their little penal colony_

_He wants to be free of it. To be free of all connections to it and to its people. _

_And the only way to do that is to die. Hence the need for soldiers with guns. _

_"Do you have any last words criminal?" _

_His smile grows more feral as he tells them he will chose death his own way—that he is in control of his destiny. They are the last words he speaks before he runs and jumps off the cliff edge toward the water below. _

_Perhaps he will die. Perhaps he will manage to swim away to safety. _

_Either way he will be free and either way, it is his choice. _

---

He wasn't dead. It was the first cohesive thought that his mind formed as it climbed gradually toward consciousness. The second was that his plan had worked. The third was: ouch.

Opening his eyes, Mugen spent a desperate moment fighting down a wave of nausea before observing his surroundings with blurry vision. The place was cool and smelled of mold, a small room of dirty stone bricks that filled the dimly lit space with a despairing feeling of emptiness. A wooden door in one wall had a small barred window cut into it, and it was only through that singular opening that the little bit of light there was came.

His head was propped up against the wall, his body splayed out uncomfortably on the ground. A wide, white strip of cloth was tied around his bare waist. He wondered how many layers thick the cloth must be to prevent any blood from seeping through. His abdomen was not having a good day. Two injuries in less than twenty-four hours. Grunting at the pain, he managed to get himself sitting so that he leaned there with half-opened eyes, gasping for air and watching a strange lump that sat against the opposite wall.

The strange lump was covered in a blue blanket and looked like it might have been a person rolled up in a neat little ball. "Yo?" Mugen tried to yell. His lungs refused to cooperate and his "yell" came out as a ragged whisper. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. The lump didn't react, so he sat there, continuing to stare at it.

It wasn't very long until Mugen was bored with staring. That's when he reached painfully down to take off his one remaining geta (the other was missing) and throw it softly at the lump. He meant to throw it hard, but a gentle toss was all he could manage.

Nothing happened for the space of another shaky breath, and then the lump exploded into a mess of arms and legs and a face that catapulted itself to within centimeters of his.

"Good mooooooooooooorning," a sing-song voice said. Their noses nearly touched, and from this close, it looked to Mugen as if the large face before him had only one giant, dark eye.

"What the hell?" Mugen yelled/whispered. "Get offa me!" Jamming a hand against the wound in his stomach, he pressed into it to help control the pain as he struggled to plant his feet on the chest that belonged to the face. He pushed with his legs as hard as he could, replacing a yell of pain with a curse. A small body rolled away from him, landing against the opposite wall with a loud "thud." He realized then that it was a man, but a man with insane eyes. They looked autonomous, as if he had no control over them, and they wandered everywhere, skittishly, never focusing but always searching.

"Oooh, not nice. No. That's not nice. You're not very nice. What's your naaame?'

"Shut up."

"Ooooh, no wonder. No wonder why you're not nice. You don't have a nice name. Mr. Shut-up? Your parents must be not nice too." The little man was standing, rocking on his heels as he did, arms waving wildly. His hair was black and spiky, sticking up in thick clumps that made his head look like an abstract sculpture. The lips were large and the eyes were larger, dwarfing a miniature nose. The head was big too, attached to a thick short neck on a thin short body. Everything was out of proportion.

Mugen couldn't help staring and he couldn't help feeling tense. If he'd had a sword he would have threatened to kill the crazy-looking man. "Shut up. I don't like your talking." His voice was getting used to speaking and his whispers were becoming more like gravely shouts.

"You like your name don't you, Not-Nice-One. I like my talking. They put me in here for talking. Talk, talk, talk. I talk to everyone. I hear too, so I have more to talk about. I hear secret plans from General and I talk, talk, talk. The Christians like to talk too. They talk about their God and how he sits on a throne higher than the shooogun. They talk and talk and talk until SLISH!" The man ran a finger quickly across his neck. "They deeeaaaaad!" The wild eyes settled suddenly, aimed at Mugen.

Mugen swallowed harder than he wanted to. "You're insane."

"No, no, no. I'm in-jaaaiiil. But not for looo-ooong." The man lowered his voice as if telling a secret. "Tomorrow's execution day. SLISH!" He then proceeded to dance in a small circle yelling "SLISH, SLISH, SLISH!"

Mugen tried to look calm, though the creature in front of him made him want to leap up and strangle it. Unfortunately, Mugen wasn't confident he could stand up right now. Instead, he smiled a sadistic smile and with an air of disregard said, "I've escaped execution before. Ain't a big deal." The truth was, any day could be execution day, and tomorrow would be no different.

The man laughed crazily. "Won't escape this tiiiime. No, no, no. They'll be extra careful with us. We're the shogun's _special_ prisoners. We made Shinnyo mad, yo, yo, yo!"

"I'm gonna kill Shinnyo," Mugen said with confidence. He thought for a moment that he had no idea how he would, being not only a prisoner, but a very wounded prisoner. He drove these thoughts out immediately. Mugen wasn't one to doubt. It only got in the way, clouded his mind and brought fear. Mugen wasn't one to fear either.

The man was laughing too much to talk. It was high-pitched, like the sound a dying animal should make. It hurt Mugen's ears and he began yelling threats, no longer caring that he didn't have a sword to carry them out with. He had hands.

The man kept laughing and finally Mugen lunged forward with a roar that rose up from the pain in his stomach and came out through his lungs. He skipped trying to stand all together, but simply flung himself forward and tackled the man to the ground.

Mugen was unconscious before they hit the floor.

---

_He considers, for only a moment, that the odds might be against him, as he surveys the twenty-or-so men that are armed and standing in front of him. They all want him dead. _

_The leader, a tall, slim, muscular man with long, choppy hair yells out the accusations of the crowd. "_ _No street__ scum is going to steal from us and get away with it." He spits on the ground. "We have our own justice here." _

_Mugen shrugs lazily, his heartbeat quick but his gestures slow and relaxed. "I don't like your justice." _

_"Dirty criminal. Have you any last words in your defense." _

_A smile and then Mugen bares his teeth a little. "The food was good. The girl at the brothel was better." _

_"You hear him! Insolent and evil. He must be killed!" With that they advance, a mixture of swords and hoes raised in the air. _

_Mugen isn't stupid. He knows there are too many, and so he spins around to run down the dusty road, kicking up as much dirt as he can to block their view. He turns into the trees, hoping to lose them in the brush, or at least enough of them that he can kill the rest. _

_It's been only a week since he's run away from Ryuukuu and he's already running again._

---

"Wakey, wakey!"

Mugen moaned and opened his eyes. The crazy-man was leaning over him, flapping his hands in Mugen's face like a fan.

"You fell asleepy. But it's wakey-wakey time. We have a guest." The man gave Mugen a toothy smile and leaned back on his heals, gesturing toward the door.

Mugen used his elbows to push the top-half of his body upward, so that he could see the door beyond his feet. Light flickered behind the barred-window and he heard the sounds of the guards talking. Then, there was the jingle of keys.

"Listen," Mugen whispered to the crazy-man. "When they open the door we attack. Just dive at them and try to grab one of their weapons. How are you at fighting?"

"No, no, no. No fight."

Mugen growled. "Yes, fight. That's how we escape."

"No, no, no. That's not how."

"Stop saying 'no'!"

"No."

Mugen was about to reach out and strangle the man when the door swung open and Fuu came tumbling toward him. She squealed as she did, rolling, very painfully, into his lap. The door was closed again before he could think further about attacking the guards.

Fuu moaned, and then yelled, "Mugen," as if he didn't know his own name.

"Off," he gasped.

"Mugen, you're alive! How dare you scare me like that… What? What are you saying."

"Off… of… me…" he sputtered helplessly.

Her eyes grew wide as she looked down and realized she was sitting on his bandaged stomach. Bolting to her feet, she backed away muttering that she was sorry.

Mugen didn't answer. He was too busy coughing. He leaned onto his side fighting for air. Through teary eyes he saw her kneel beside him, her cheeks flushed.

"Mugen? Mugen, breathe you idiot."

He glared at her through salty wetness and tried to say something sarcastic, like, "Thanks for the advice," but he couldn't get past the first "T".

He felt Fuu's hands under his back and realized, with some surprise that she was sliding him into a sitting position, letting his torso rest against his chest. She grunted a little, and he wanted to smirk at that but couldn't spare the energy. He knew he was heavier than he looked. Leaning forward with her help, Mugen twisted his body slightly and supported himself with two braced arms on his left side, his head hung low between them. Fuu stayed behind him on her knees, offering extra support and rubbing his back.

A little pool of saliva had collected on the ground under him, and he stared down at it as the coughing subsided and he panted to catch his breath.

"That's disgusting," Fuu said.

He tilted his head and glared at her through sweaty, wet strands of black hair. "Not too disgusting for you to be touching me."

Her eyes flitted to her hand on his back and she suddenly rolled away from him so that he nearly fell over, just barely catching himself. "My mother used to do that for me when I had trouble coughing. It's an instinct I guess," she said.

He laughed at her bashful innocence.

Her brow lowered a little and she stood up, hands on her hips defiantly. "Well, you could be a little more appreciative. Next time I'll just let you suffocate." A pause, then, "It's your own stupidity that got you into this mess anyway. What were you thinking charging those guards? We thought you were dead. Don't you care that Jin and I thought you were dead?"

"No."

She threw her hands in the air and growled in frustration.

A wild, high-pitched laugh interrupted their bantering. Mugen remembered then about the crazy-man sharing their cell and Fuu seemed to notice him for the first time. Her anger softened and she looked both curious and a little unnerved.

"Who are you?" Fuu asked.

"Me? Me, me, me. Oooh, I'm Grinsen, and this is Mr. Not-nice-shut-up. Me think you know him already though. I'm sorry for that. Who are youuuuuuu?" The little man was standing across the cell from Fuu, but he leaned forward with wide eyes, as if to hear her answer better.

She couldn't answer though. She was too busy giggling. Mugen glared at her and then at the little man. "You think he's funny now, but you'll want to kill him when you realize he doesn't shut up," Mugen said.

"No, no, no. You no kill me, executioners kill me. Executioners kill all of us!" The man did his "slish" dance again.

Fuu stopped laughing. "Executioners?"

"Yup." Mugen gently laid himself down again, folding his arms under his head and sighing. "Tomorrow they're gonna kill us."

Fuu was suddenly bent over him, a leg planted on either side of his slim frame, her hands balled into fists and her very angry eyes looming over his. If he'd been wearing a shirt, he thought she'd be gripping the neck of it now. "This is your fault. You better get us out of this. I don't want to be executed tomorrow."

"Slish, slish, slish," Grinsen continued singing.

"Yeah, and I do."

"Slish, slish, slish."

"It's hard to be sure. Only someone with a death wish attacks the commander of the royal guard and then, _while injured_, attacks a troop of the royal guard."

"Slish, slish."

"I knew what I was doing. I'm not dead, right? Besides, you and Jin might have used the chance to escape but I see you messed _that_ up." He leaned on his elbows so that he was closer to her and she could get the full effect of his bared teeth.

"Well if you hadn't gotten into a fight with Shinnyo in the first place this wouldn't have happened! Why do you always have to fight with everyone?"

"Slish, slish, slish."

"Why not?" he smiled nonchalantly.

She raged uncontrollably. "Don't you care about anything?"

"Slish."

"SHUT UP!" they both yelled simultaneously, turning violently toward Grinsen.

Grinsen stopped in mid-dance, slowly lowering a raised foot to the floor and dropping his arms. His eyes widened and he looking suddenly like a wounded bird.

Fuu looked down at Mugen one last time, a look of frustration and contained anger on her features, sighed, stood up straight, and walked over to the sulking man who was now huddled in the corner. "I'm sorry. My name is Fuu," she said, bowing slightly.

Grinsen's face lit up suddenly and he grinned. He bowed back enthusiastically. "Greetings Fuu. I'm Grinsen. And this is Mr. Not-Nice-Shut-Up."

"Yes, I know," she said, glancing over her shoulder to give Mugen a dirty look. He stuck his tongue out at her. Fuu turned back to Grinsen. "Why are you here?"

The little man looked proud. "Because I know a secret."

Mugen was suddenly interested. "What secret?" he asked before Fuu could.

But he never got an answer, because there was a loud sound of footsteps outside the door and then it came swinging open. Shinnyo stood in a rectangular frame of dirty, yellow light, smiling confidently.


End file.
